


Magic That Wilts

by SpaceAsthmatic



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Galion - Freeform, I literally love him so much, Legolas leaving for the council, More Hurt Than Comfort, Parent Thranduil, Pre-War of the Ring, Protective Legolas Greenleaf, Sick Thranduil, Sort Of, Thranduil's A+ Parenting, but not in a weirdway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 00:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16253213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceAsthmatic/pseuds/SpaceAsthmatic
Summary: A brief look at a sick king trying to save his home, and a desperate son trying to save his father.





	Magic That Wilts

Legolas had neglected any and all forms of decorum when Galion had slipped into the council chamber and whispered in his ear that his father had collapsed. The butler himself had found his father, lying in an unflattering heap on the ground of his study floor. Valar knew how long he had been laying there. 

 

The Prince nearly leapt from his chair, muttering a half-hearted and rushed apology to the group of stunned advisors. He sped from the room, Galion hot on his heels as the two rushed to the king's chambers. 

 

He did not knock, instead, Legolas burst into the room like a storm through an open window. The healers who were standing in the room gave a jump of fright at the sudden entrance, but quickly composed themselves once more. 

 

“My Prince” Carmaris, the head healer greeted bowing his head. 

 

“How is he? What happened?” Legolas asked, standing on his toes in an attempt to peer into his father's bedroom over the heads of the others.    

 

The healer made a gesture to the balcony, Legolas swiftly crossed the room, threw the door open, and stood expectantly. Waiting for the Carmaris to join him. Galion also stepped out to join them on the balcony, standing slightly behind Legolas as if he were an armed guard. 

 

Carmaris looked upon Galion with a somewhat soured expression, Thranduil was notoriously protective of his privacy, and wished none to know his personal business except the few he told himself. “I asked to speak to the Prince alone.” 

 

“Technically, you did not ask to the speak to Legolas, nor did you ask to be alone with him. You made vague hand gestures with no verbal interpretation, so I shall interpret it as an open invitation.” The Butler widened his stance slightly and crossed his arms in determination, staring unblinkingly at the vaguely threatening expression on Carmaris’ face.

 

“Wel l am-” Carmaris began but was swiftly cut off by Legolas.

 

“Galion stays.” 

 

Galion had been with his father longer than Legolas had even been alive, Galion was family. 

 

Carmaris’ expression soured further, and Legolas suspected that if the situation hadn’t been as serious that Galion might have stuck out his tongue. The two elves had never much cared for one another, at least as long as Legolas could remember.     

 

Carmaris was irritated by Galion’s overly cheerful nature, and his habit to talk without thinking. He thought him to be irresponsible and annoying, plus Galion never listened to him. Carmaris was a well respected, and feared, member of Greenwood. As such, he was accustomed to people scrambling to comply with every demand and task he set for them. 

 

But Galion had served under Thranduil for many ages and often joked that there was nothing on Arda or Aman left to strike fear into him after the experiences he had had serving his king. The few tasks Carmaris had attempted to force Galion to accomplish had been met with a disinterested reply such as, “I serve the King. Not you.” Or “ If you would like to write your request down I can deliver it to the King, and if he see’s the task fit for me, I will happily comply.” 

 

Galion for his part thought Carmaris to be egotistical, aloof, and downright cranky for seemingly no reason. Legolas was more inclined to agree with Galion on their dispute, he would avoid dealing with Carmaris if he was able to. The Prince found him difficult at best to deal with, yet still had an enormous amount of respect for him. 

 

Nothing got under Carmaris’ skin quite like Galion, and nothing brought Galion more joy than frustrating the healer.

 

“Very well then, my prince.” His eyes drifted away from the glare they had been giving the attendant, and back to Legolas. The sneer of displeasure also fading from his face, “Your father will recover, given time. He is exhausted, in pain, and he does not remember the last time he ate. He hit his head on his desk when he lost consciousness, but it appears not to be affecting him aside from some bruising.” 

 

Legolas nodded mutely, digesting the information. He knew his father was exhausted, he knew of the pain he felt. It was the price one paid when they did not have the luxury of one of the three elven rings. 

 

Elrond and Galadriel were able to use the rings magic to protect their borders and their home, Thranduil used his own magic. He had weaved himself into the roots of the tree’s and bloomed with the flowers. It was his force, his will, his power their great forest drew upon in times of need. 

 

If only it had not been in need for several hundred years. 

 

Legolas was fairly certain his father had not given so much of himself intentionally at first, but now there was no other choice. As the forest grew sicker, so did it's king. As Thranduil gave more and more of himself to the forest, more darkness pushed itself into him. 

 

He felt the pains from the fires the orcs set, he shivered with the feeling of spiders crawling through the boughs of branches, he felt the life slowly being smothered within the forest. He grew weak with the tree’s, all but at the mercy of the endless shadow. 

 

Legolas had begged his father countless times to teach him to use his own magic in the same way, to help his father and share in his burden. Thranduil always stubbornly refused, unwilling for Legolas to be tied as closely to a dying home as he was. 

 

Instead of sharing the burden, the king has taken to drinking his strong wines to help numb the pain and exhaustion. It had only been an occasional habit at first, but now he drank several cups daily. Somedays the wine worked very well, other days he was nearly unable to leave his own bed, body rigid with pain and eyes so tired they could not focus. 

 

“Can I go and see him?” Legolas asked as Galion rested a sympathetic hand upon his shoulder as if he had been guessing his very thoughts. 

 

“Yes.” Carmaris answered, “ but if he is sleeping, do not wake him.” 

 

Legolas swept back inside, leaving the healer and the butler in a somewhat tense and awkward silence behind him. The three other healers that had been here when he arrived had already made their departure, which Legolas was thankful for. 

 

He knocked very softly on his father's closed bedroom door, waiting a few moments before he cautiously slipped inside.  

 

Thranduil lay asleep in his bed like a mortal, eye closed and completely unaware of his surroundings. Which was good, in a way, for it would be a deep and healing sleep. But it was always worrisome when an elf pushed themselves far enough to need such a rest. 

 

Legolas carefully and silently sat on the other side of the bed that his father did not use, the side that used to be his mother's. Which had eventually become Legolas’ side when he was an elfling and could not sleep the night by himself.

 

Occasionally Legolas still slept there, when he craved the protective nature of his only parent, and the safeness he felt when he was in Thranduil's presence. For the forest was now dark and full of terrors, and there are some things that will haunt one for days after, and dreams for a lifetime. 

 

There was a tray of partially eaten food on the table next to his father, as well as a pitcher full of wine and an empty cup. Legolas poured himself a glass, filling it until it nearly overflowed, and drank it down without pause.        

 

He felt the bed shift as his father woke up, either senseing Legolas’ troubled soul or because of the nosie, Thranduil's sleep filled words drifted from the head of the bed, eyes still half closed. “It is too early for you to be drinking as such, my Greenleaf.”

 

Legolas looked upon his father, at his pale face and shaking hands. At the emptiness within his eyes, and the hollows of his cheeks.  

 

“Teach me your magic, Ada, please” Legolas begged, one last time, staring into his father's eyes imploringly. He felt as though he was watching his father's slow death before his very eyes, and he had felt as such for many years. He wanted to help, needed to help, but was unsure how to. 

 

He had already done everything he could think of to save his father. He was captain of the Archers and drove the beasts from their tree’s day and night. He went to any and all council meetings he could in his father's place in hopes he would rest. He all but force-fed his father at times in an attempt to keep him eating. He ensured that they would never run out of wine.  

 

But it didn't help, not enough. Not like adding his own magic and strength to his father's would.

 

Thranduil smiled sadly at his son and shook his head softly, “No. Such things bring only pain and will wilt even the brightest of greenleaves.”   

 

“Ada,  _ please _ ” Legolas tried again, how was his father to heal if he could never rest? Never take a break?  

 

But Thranduil was adamant in his stance, “No, I will not do it. I will not teach you the magic to bring about your end.”

 

“But Ada, if you do not it will bring about  _ your  _ end.” 

 

Thranduil smiled another sad smile, “No, my little leaf, it will not. I will not leave this earth until you have, I will never leave you. I will endure.” 

 

Thranduil had promised Legolas many times throughout his life that he would never leave him. The first being after the loss of his mother when he had nearly faded from grief. He promised him after every nightmare, every injury, and every loss Legolas felt. 

 

Sometimes he told him just to make sure he knew it.

 

His father had promised to never leave his side countless times, yet this was the first time that Legolas did not believe him. 

 

He would have to do something more drastic then, if his father would not allow him to help he would find another way. He would save his father like all the times his father had saved him. He had been toying with the idea since they had first received word of the council Elrond was holding. 

 

A council they both suspected had to do with the One Ring being found.

 

A council that was likely to discuss how to destroy it. Likely to choose who would attempt it.

 

Without the ring, the evil would begin to fade from the world, the poison would leave the woods and drain from his father. He would be safe. He would be saved.   

 

Thranduil began drifting off to sleep once more, and Legolas placed a loving kiss to his forehead, murmuring, “I love you, Ada” 

 

“I love you too, my Legolas” 

 

He would be gone before his father woke again.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I really hoped you enjoyed it! Would love to hear something from you :)


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